


when you are young they assume you know nothing

by admiraloftheships



Category: DCU (Comics), Young Justice (Cartoon), Young Justice - All Media Types
Genre: Based on a song, Chalant, F/M, Mild Angst, Nabu is a Prick, Not Canon Compliant, Post Season 2, Slow Burn, past relationship, well not too slow
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2021-01-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:14:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27668006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/admiraloftheships/pseuds/admiraloftheships
Summary: Post Season 2. Not Season 3 canon compliant.Zatanna knew that it would be a long shot to track down artifacts, hoping one of them will be the key to releasing her father from Doctor Fate's service. That didn't matter. But when an exchange in Gotham goes sour, soon she will have to question her own motives, her desires, and even her magic. Dick Grayson, meanwhile, has just returned to Gotham, with his own demons to deal with.
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Zatanna Zatara
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. high heels on cobblestones

**Author's Note:**

> "Vintage tee, brand new phone  
> High heels on cobblestones  
> When you are young, they assume you know nothing"
> 
> \- cardigan, Taylor Swift

Zatanna pursed her lips and looked away. She was not going to be drawn into this again. But she would. Every time. Because she had to. There was no other reason, really, other than the fact that it was her fault.

It didn’t matter that it had been years. That there had been so many people comforting her.

So here she was, deep in the shady alleyways of Gotham, waiting for a contact to arrive with an artifact which promised to pulse with ancient magic from the darker corners of the Egyptian kingdom.

Her contact was late. 

She had dressed appropriately enough, in dark jeans, with a sweatshirt and a hoodie layered on top, making her look less conspicuous. She still kept her heels on, though. Zatanna wanted to feel in some way that this was a normal occasion. 

Still, she’d still attracted the occasional leer from the various sorts of scum which frequented this part of the Narrows. 

This was something which Zatanna had often relied on to forget about her father. She was well aware of her own female appeal (what good show woman wasn’t?) and knew how she could use it. 

But now, it was something of a liability, considering the rather malicious intent that lurked in this area. 

She cast her sky blue eyes left and right, reaching out with her magic tentatively. This was one of the few things that had actually come from Nabu. The arrogant entity which occupied her father’s body was, unfortunately, the most powerful magical source on earth, and also the most experienced warrior in the mystic arts.

Although Nabu refused to let her father out, he had reluctantly agreed to teach her nonverbal magic, as well as widen her range of skills and tricks. 

One of those tricks was the aura reading skill which Zatanna was accessing now, allowing her power to saturate her eyes, which took on a purple glow. She glanced around. Lots of fear, anger, and avarice. 

There. Confidence. Not just confidence. Power. Unconsciously, Zatanna stepped forward. Something familiar. The dusty, solemn energy which by now was a painful wrench in her heart to feel.

But now her chest flared with breathless hope. Whatever it was, it was a genuine artifact, and the power from it was on the same wavelength as Nabu’s.

It was only when she looked up and saw her contact that she realised how badly she may have messed up this acquisition.

Jules, he called himself, held onto a ragged backpack, clutching it to his chest, shivering as though caught in a snowstorm. His jaw was slack, and spasms rocked up and down his legs as he staggered towards her. 

Zatanna felt something off, something in the air. 

She sniffed delicately, and immediately a noxious scent of ash and sulfur burnt her nostrils. Clenching her fingers, she pictured the word “Order” in her mind, and reversed it, layering the two over each other in her thoughts.

Magic, golden in her aura-vision, blossomed in her palms, interweaving with her own magenta energy which she’d come to realise as her own power.

“Aw, we don’t need that, do we?” a petulant voice asked from nowhere.

Zatanna felt a sting as a burst of roaring reds and oranges seared her eyes, and Klarion stood in front of her, grinning, holding his damned cat.

“Let him go,” Zatanna gestured to Jules, “and maybe I won’t have to use this.”

Already, the power of Fate was gathering itself into perfect geometrical shapes, pulsing around her wrists and palms. 

Klarion made a face in distaste. 

“Do we really need that?” Klarion yawned and stretched. 

Zatanna felt her lips twist into an uncontrolled snarl. “Oh, I always need a leash around crazy cats.”

Klarion put a hand over his heart, as though wounded. “And to think that I chose this form specifically for you.” Klarion’s current form was tall, lanky, and most definitely Zatanna’s age. His hair still stuck up in those stupid tufts, and Zatanna was still more than ready to try and discorporate that body.

“Don’t you humans have gratitude?” Klarion drifted his arm around Jules’ shoulder. “I helped him find and bring this little artifact right to you. He’s so happy to do it, too. Such a nice man...”

Jules gave Zatanna a strained smile. A very strained smile. Zatanna held her lips still. But on the inside, her mind was racing. This close to an artifact of fundamental magic, either she or Klarion would have enough power to obliterate the other. 

Klarion, for all of his gangly youth schtick, was still a centuries old entity of chaos, and was still going to be far quicker on the draw. 

“Jules,” Zatanna said, quietly. “Put the bag down, and leave.”

A fractional shake of the head belied his next words. “I haven’t gotten my payment yet. You promised something...extra for this one.”

Somehow, with Klarion’s magic rooting through his body, Jules still managed a leer. Zatanna had always suspected that Jules may have had some sliver of magic, and now, in her aura-vision, she could see sparks of indigo flaring from his head.

In the corner of her vision. Navy blue. Just for a second.

Zatanna raised her voice, “Well, considering that you’re currently the better choice, I’m sure you’ll get something.”

Zatanna cocked her hand on her hip, letting a smirk finally play across her lips. Klarion hesitated for a brief second, a scowl crossing his face.

His mouth opened, but before he could say anything more, a cloud of black, roiling gas burst at Klarion’s feet, and there was a faint swish of air as a dark blue figure leapt from the roof into the cloud. 

“ _em ot, gab_!” Zatanna hissed, waiting a split second as the bag ripped from Jules’ grasp and out of the cloud. She stretched out a hand to intercept it, and as the tattered lump of canvas flew towards her, the Fate magic still ringing her wrists gave out a single clear toll, like a city of church bells ringing once. 

And suspended in midair in front of her was the Stone of Imhotep. 

Zatanna bit back a gasp as the Stone was suspended above her palm. The ancient Egyptian was one of the world’s early healers, and, if legends were to be believed, one of the first humans to put on the Helmet of Fate. 

Locked away in the Egyptian vaults for decades, the Stone was all but impossible to obtain. But here it was now, and Imhotep’s Stone might just hold the key to…

Zatanna didn’t even want to name what she wanted, so terrified she was of hope. 

“ _No!_ ”

Zatanna’s vision flashed a burning red, and she felt a wave of energy slam headlong into her, sending her flying backwards, the Stone still suspended above her palm, cradled in magic. 

“ _Pots!_ ” Zatanna wheezed out, and her motion halted so abruptly she nearly lost her balance again. 

“You are a tricky one,” Klarion laughed. “I like that. I really like that.”

“Thanks,” Zatanna growled.

“But bringing other boys into this?” Klarion shook his head and tutted at her. “Disappointing.”

Zatanna flicked her eyes around. The smoke was dissipating, and Jules lay on the ground, unconscious. 

“What other boys?” Zatanna retorted, “You brought Jules into this.”

Klarion sighed, and snapped his fingers.

Orange light flared in a dark corner of the alley, and they coalesced into burning ropes which wrapped around a dark figure, sending him crashing against the wall, pinned there like a butterfly on display. 

“Glad to see you’re grown, Witch Boy,” Nightwing said, his head pinned tight against the wall. 

“Glad to see you’re still hopelessly in love,” Klarion sneered. 

Zatanna felt her heart leap in her chest for a half-second before it settled. She and Dick had mutually and cordially separated years ago, but the idea of the two of them together again was...good. 

Then the anger came back. 

“Well, the feeling’s hardly mutual.” Zatanna snapped. 

Klarion spread his arms theatrically, casting a look over at Nightwing. “Women, am I--”

Zatanna didn’t let him finish his sentence, instead electing to unleash the Fate magic as a series of geometric patterns of light, slamming into Klarion’s chest and sending him backwards and staggering. 

She snapped her hands together and the patterns of light wrapped around Klarion into a perfect straitjacket. 

Klarion growled. “Come on then, let’s see how strong you are.”

He put another hand on his familiar, and as the cat hissed the straitjacket shattered. 

Fortunately, at the same time, the bonds around Nightwing dissipated, and he was on Klarion in a flash, electrified batons slamming a deadly rhythm into Klarion’s head and body. 

“Get off!” Klarion staggered away, releasing a burst of sulphurous energy that sent Nightwing back towards the alley walls. 

Zatanna could feel more energy coursing through her, and suddenly she felt a cool sensation on her palm as the Stone of Imhotep landed in her palm. She couldn't hold back a gasp as pure energy fired through her like a thousand lightning bolts, and Zatanna knew this was real. This was power. 

This was an artifact that had once belonged to Doctor Fate. This was the key. 

“Sorry about this,” Zatanna said conversationally.

Klarion looked up at her, and for once he did not look cocky or arrogant. If Zatanna could’ve seen herself then, floating three feet off the ground, surrounded by a nimbus of golden-white energy, then she might have understood why as well. 

Because now, she could see what Imhotep had put into the Stone. His memories, his notes, all of it was here. All the incantations he could use. With the Stone, she could even deal with Klarion. 

Klarion must have misjudged the power of the Stone, because he looked truly afraid. 

“Zatanna?” Nightwing was picking himself back off the ground. “What are you--”

With a contemptuous flick of her wrist, Zatann sent Klarion flying, and pinned him in place. This time, Klarion struggled to no avail.

“Teekl!” He barked an order at the cat, which squirmed out from the magical bonds, only for Nightwing to step forwards and nail it with a single, solid strike to the head that dropped it immediately. 

“Kill me if you can, little girl.” Klarion bared his teeth, but his eyes were desperate. “I am far older than you, and you cannot begin to understand how power works.”

Zatanna laughed, an uncontrolled sound spraying around that had Nightwing stepping forward warily. 

“Zatanna? Zee?”

“I don’t know?” Zatanna waved a hand dismissively, and Nightwing found himself suddenly all the way down the alleyway. His voice was now distant, and another wave of the hand sealed him off, pounding at a magical barrier, his voice muted. Zatanna barely had to think, and then a spell was appearing in her mind and her fingers were moving, teleporting Jules out of harm's way. 

Then the next spell appeared in her mind, and as her hands began to move, she began to speak.

“Well, soon I’ll do to you what Doctor Fate couldn’t. Give you what you deserve. And then I’ll maintain the balance, and give Nabu what he deserves, too.” Zatanna tightened her fist, and golden magic began to penetrate into Klarion’s aura. 

And Klarion started laughing. 

“Oh, oh, oh, this is too good!” Klarion was nearly tearing up laughing. “Oh, you still blame me! After all these years! You would do anything, squander everything! Oh that is brilliant! And now you...with the Stone, you could...oh this is terrific!”

“Shut up!” Zatanna screamed, and Imhotep’s knowledge nestled in her mind and offered up another spell. 

A burning arrow materialised in midair, and fired itself straight into Klarion’s heart. 

The boy just kept laughing. 

“Oh, you don’t even understand! You don’t even know what you’ve done! Thank you, thank you, thank you! This makes up for years and years of failure on this earth.”

Zatanna didn’t understand. The spell, cast with the power of Fate, should’ve discorporated Klarion, and quite painfully at that. 

“What have you done?” she said, her voice now wavering. 

Klarion smiled. “Oh, you know now, don’t you? You do! Let me answer your question. I didn’t do anything, and you know exactly why.”

“No,” Zatanna muttered.

“What do you get,” Klarion said, “when you cross an artifact of Order, and an emotionally unbalanced magical caster who wants to use Order on Order?”

He threw back his head in laughter again. 

“No!” Zatanna dropped back into her aura-vision, and saw it herself.

Klarion stopped laughing long enough to lock eyes with Zatanna. “I’ll tell you the answer.”

He grinned. “You get _chaos_.” 

Then he disappeared in a burst of roaring smoke.

Zatanna could see it. A roaring maelstrom of oranges and reds battling with the golden light within her, and braided into every spell she’d woven. Zatanna jerked her head backwards, closing her eyes to stop seeing in auras. Her spells dissipated into thin air, the inherent contradictions too much for the spells to hold without her direct guidance.

“Zatanna!” Nightwing, free from the barrier, racing towards her. 

She felt another spell pop into her mind, a spell of lust and love. Zatanna bit her lip. Would it be that bad if she did? With what she’d just found out about herself?

Before she had a chance, she felt the pulse in her forehead that came with the arrival of a powerful magical individual. 

No. Not so early. She wasn’t ready yet.

“ _Zatanna Zatara._ ”

She turned, faintly hearing Nightwing curse behind her, to look at the man floating above her. At Nabu. At her father. 

“Hello, Father.”

“ _I believe you have something of mine._ ” Doctor Fate said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More to come. Next chapter will be from Dick's POV. I'll be trying to expand some of the lore magic in the YJ universe on my own, but the main focus will be on Dick and Zee, with the whole magic/Doctor Fate situation to push along what shambles of a plot I can think of. See you soon.
> 
> Admiral out.


	2. a friend to all is a friend to none

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick Grayson tries to mediate between the two magicians, as Zatanna, his former flame, refuses to allow the Stone of Imhotep to be taken away by Doctor Fate. But is there more at work to the Stone than Zatanna knows?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A friend to all is a friend to none  
> Chase two girls, lose the one  
> When you are young, they assume you know nothing"
> 
> \- cardigan, Taylor Swift

Dick Grayson skidded to a stop on the Gotham alleyway, biting back a swear. Of all the things which he had anticipated seeing in Gotham after his sabbatical, it was not the world’s two most powerful magic-users facing off. 

“ _-is something you are not ready to wield,_ ” Doctor Fate was saying, one gloved hand outstretched, his eyes inscrutable behind the golden helmet. 

“I’m doing fine with it so far, Father,” Zatanna growled. He hadn’t seen her in so long, so when he’d spotted Klarion the Witch Boy, Dick had assumed that Constantine was in the area again. 

But here she was. 

“ _You have some innate power, but that does not make you fit to wield an artifact like that._ ” Doctor Fate’s voice was, as usual, monotone and emotionless. 

“ _And let us avoid confusion. I understand that it is hard for people to internalise this, but I am not Giovanni Zatara._ ”

Dick frowned. He’d actually never heard Doctor Fate say something that was unnecessary to the conversation, it was almost as though Zatanna’s words had rankled him. 

Zatanna’s eyes were crackling now, this time not the usual mixture of determination and excitement, but now with anger and magic. 

“Sorry to disappoint, Father,” Zatanna spat, “but the Stone is staying with me.”

Doctor Fate looked hesitant, Dick judged, from the body language of the man, wrists relaxed and his legs close together. There was something off about Doctor Fate. Something different. 

That wasn’t the problem now, Dick decided, firing off a grappling hook onto a steel pipe snaking down the alleyway and whipping himself up to roof level, where Doctor Fate and Zatanna stood suspended in mid-air. 

Doctor Fate held out a hand. His voice hardened. “ _Give it to me._ ”

Dick could see the rage starting to gather in Zatanna’s eyes, saw her muscles tense up, and he knew that he had to intervene. 

“Doctor!” Dick called, landing lightly on the rooftop. He could feel the residual heat of the setting sun on his back. 

“ _Nightwing. I assure you, and the Batman, that I will not stay long. I know his feelings towards excessive magical interference in Gotham._ ” Doctor Fate did not move a single muscle while he said this.

“That may be true, but this is a powerful artifact, and it is in Gotham.” Dick turned to Zatanna. “Give it to me. Batman will hold onto it until we can find a safe place to move it to. Unless the Doctor already knows of one?”

Doctor Fate inclined his head slightly in a gesture of defeat. “ _I do not. Imhotep’s Stone dislikes being removed from the regular planes of existence. I cannot bring it with me to the Tower of Fate._ ”

Dick let out an internal sigh of relief. If Doctor Fate had a place to store the Stone, then a fight would be inevitable. 

“Sorry, Nightwing, but I’m not letting the Stone out of my sight.” Zatanna, like Doctor Fate, kept her eyes firmly locked on the other magician, but Dick thought he could sense her voice softening.

He remembered that special purring timbre that Zatanna used to conjure up when they were younger, that would make him do anything for her, and had absolutely nothing to do with magic.

It was something that Bruce had trained him for, the kind of parallel lines of thinking that made the Batman such a prodigious fighter and detective. 

Keeping one eye on the situation at hand and another on a list of facts and memories at the same time was a neat trick, and he knew he needed it now. 

So Dick softened his voice as well. 

“Zee,” He hadn’t called her that in years, “give me the Stone.”

Dick could see Zatanna bite her lip in consideration. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Doctor Fate slowly lower his hand. 

“ _It will not work._ ”

Zatanna whipped her head up viciously, her hair flying around her. “What?” she snarled.

Doctor Fate remained still. “ _Imhotep was a great magician, this is true. His skill far exceeded that of your father, and his potential was greater even than yours. But even he cannot change the Will of Fate._ ”

“Well, Imhotep disagrees,” Zatanna said, and Dick could feel his heart sinking. 

“And he managed to get that damned helmet off, didn’t he? Or he couldn’t have made this stone.” Zatanna straightened, and her hands were up and splayed. “Sorry, Nightwing, but I--”

Whatever her next words were was drowned out by the hum of magic rushing out of her palms. Doctor Fate didn’t move a finger, but a golden shield appeared out of thin air, absorbing the jet of magenta light that Zatanna had released. 

“No, no, no!” Dick shouted, reaching into his belt, running for the edge of the roof. He put one foot on the edge and vaulted into the air, opening his hands to release smoke bombs which exploded in a puff. 

If his calculations were right, and Dick trusted they were, then any moment now he would…

There was a solid thump as his armoured chestplate encountered flesh, and he wrapped his arms around Zatanna as they went plummeting towards the ground. 

She was screaming in his ear, but Dick ignored it, locking an arm around her waist and raising the other one to plant a grapnel into the side of the building, swinging the two of them to a gentle stop at the bottom of the alley. 

Then he felt a cold sensation on his solar plexus, and the Stone of Imhotep pulsed once, flinging him off Zatanna and onto the ground with enough force to crack his backplate. 

“Zee, stop!” Dick was back on his feet instantly, and approaching Zatanna with his empty hands outstretched. Behind them, smoke roiled. 

“I can’t!” Dick was close enough to see tears in those beautiful blue eyes.. 

“Just let me have it, okay? We’ll find a way, you know we will.” 

Dick could see her bite her lip again, her fingers moving against the stone casually, and suddenly his head was dizzy with lust, his eyes fixating on those cherry red lips, remembering the feeling of her, her scent.

“ _That is enough._ ”

The smoke burst apart and dissipated, and Doctor Fate’s hands were now filled with golden energy. 

“ _You have done enough harm with that stone._ ”

\--

Zatanna felt her lips curl into a snarl again. It had been so easy to enrapture Dick with the spell. Even now, he could sense Nabu’s power trying to force the spell to dispel, but to no avail. 

Imhotep’s voice whispered into her ear again, and she wove a series of geometrical shapes with the magic of Order. 

“ _You must stop this. Now._ ”

“Let my father go, then.” Zatanna fired back, With a flick of her wrist, golden energy identical to the ones gathering in Doctor Fate’s palms fired out like searchlights. 

This time, Doctor Fate was forced back by the force of the blasts, his palms outstretched, leaning into the blast of magic. 

“ _This is dangerous magic you work, girl._ ”

Zatanna grinned, a sly, vicious smile fuelled by years of hatred. “You flinched. Good. Imhotep was right, you do lie.”

“ _I do not._ ” Doctor Fate waved his hand, and Zatanna felt her stomach plummet as reality caved around her. 

“Take him!” Zatanna screamed at Nightwing, as she desperately riffled through her deck of tricks to try and stop herself from being drawn down into the Tower of Fate. She tried a spell of repair to stop the portal from forming, but Zatanna felt the spell snap instantly.

Already, she could sense the pull of cold gravity that came from the Tower of Fate, and she cast her palms from side to side, trying to push back against it’s calm, persistent pull, as her feet sunk deeper and deeper. 

Zatanna looked through her wildly thrown hair, and saw Nightwing somersault into the air, swinging his staff fluidly. Doctor Fate didn’t even have to move a single finger, a golden shield simply materialised, and the staff bounced off. Nightwing adjusted to the momentum, flipping in midair to fire his grappling hook to reangle himself.

Doctor Fate was forced to use his second hand as Zatanna continued to exert pressure against the portal. 

Another shield materialised to block several hand-thrown projectiles, and another slammed bodily into Nightwing, who landed with a nonchalant roll. 

The thought gave Zatanna a smile. What was it she’d said to him once, back when they were both young, and knew nothing at all? 

“ _Be as chalant as you like,_ ” she’d said, and he’d blushed, she remembered the thrill of realising that Robin, Boy Wonder, might be interested in her, a timid girl trapped in her father’s shadow. 

Then, Imhotep’s voice returned to her. Her father, who, now, was trapped by the entity Nabu. But there was a way. A way that, foolishly, Doctor Fate himself had just allowed Zatanna to use. 

The spell appeared in her mind, but Zatanna could feel spots in her vision as the pressure of the portal grew greater.

Then, Nightwing flung his escrima stick at Doctor Fate. As it made contact with a shield, it crackled with electricity, and Nightwing pressed a button. Set on nearly invisible wires crisscrossing Doctor Fate were explosives, all planted during Nightwing’s seemingly futile efforts.

The explosions were perfectly timed bursts of electricity and plasma, a new mixture the Batman was testing, due to it’s accuracy and lack of shrapnel. Nightwing himself was already moving, vaulting into the only space not currently flooded with superheated energy.

Doctor Fate came out of the cloud of light and smoke in that exact direction, his armour smoking, and Nightwing struck with his second escrima stick, striking the electricity-tipped length of reinforced steel into Doctor Fate’s neck, then wrapping a grapnel wire around Fate and dragging him to the ground. 

Surprisingly, he still had enough wits about him to blast Nightwing off him and stumble to his feet, but Nightwing had bought Zatanna just enough time. 

She had been watching, crafting the complicated spell, and now she cast it, screaming, “ _dinb ubaN dna temleh llacer!_ ”

Zatanna saw the helmet swivel in her direction, saw the eyes widen in panic, heard the voice of Doctor Fate, this time more Zatara than Nabu, felt the spell tighten, sensed the pull on her redouble, and the last thing she saw before the portal dragged her and the Stone, struggling to break free of her grasp, into the Tower of Fate was Nightwing sprinting back out of the shadows.

\--

Dick saw Zee disappear down the portal, which closed in a fizzle of sparks to reveal the ground, old, worn tiles, and most definitely bereft of pretty girls in magician’s suits. He whirled around, his mind still hazy, still locked onto his target as Doctor Fate fell to one knee. 

_“I release you.”_

Dick was suddenly struck by a feeling like a bucket of cold water had been thrown into his face, and then he was gasping, his mind clear. 

“I...” 

Looking at his palms, Dick realised that he had spent the past five minutes attempting to take down League member Doctor Fate, on the instructions of Zee, who had a certain mad glint in her eyes that Dick could now clearly remember. 

“ _This is no time for guilt, Nightwing._ ”

Doctor Fate was down on both knees now, breathing heavily. 

“Doctor?” Nightwing picked up his pace and ran over to the armoured figure. “Doctor what’s happening? Where did you send her?”

“ _Listen carefully, boy. I have little time._ ” Doctor Fate shuddered, and a red mist that smelled of a familiar sulfur and smoke surrounded him. Dick still remembered it from his encounters with Klarion. The smell of chaos magic.

“ _Zatanna has been corrupted by a former pupil of mine. Using her connection to me, she used a spell he invented to cripple me. She believed it would free her father from his service to me._ ”

Footsteps. Nightwing stood and glanced around. Out of the shadows, a gang of about fifteen was emerging, wielding knives and crowbars. This was Gotham, after all. 

“ _She was wrong. My pupil, Imhotep, means to destroy the Helmet, and exile me from this plane of existence. And because she has already caused chaos within order, the spell may well succeed. But the spell required her to draw power from the Tower of Fate, and in return the Tower drew her in._ ”

“Keep explaining Doctor, I’ll hear you,” Dick said, readying himself as the gang drew closer. 

“Shiny suit he’s got there,” one of the gang members called. 

“Take another step and I’ll put you into a cast.” Dick responded. 

“ _The spell will slowly but surely drain me of my power, and destroy both the Helmet and Giovanni Zatara’s body._ ”

The gang took another step. Dick rolled a smoke grenade towards them, and immediately was bouncing off the walls of the narrow alleyway, somersaulting right into their midst. 

He landed both feet solidly on one man’s head, springboarding off his crumpling body to whip a roundhouse kick in midair into another, before landing lightly, sticks blurring as he tore through the members from behind. 

There was shouting, cursing, and the meaty thwack of the sticks on flesh, as well as the clattering of metal as swung knives and crowbars went astray in the thick smoke. 

Still, through all this, Dick could hear Doctor Fate’s voice as though he was right behind him. 

“ _In order to slow down the spell, I will have to retreat from this plane voluntarily. Giovanni Zatara’s spirit will too. Take his body to the Zatara home of Shadowcrest. There you can find a way into the Tower of Fate. You must free Zatanna from the control of Imhotep. Only she can revoke the spell._ ”

The smoke was clearing, and as Dick swept the legs out from what he thought was the last gang member, a crowbar came whistling out of thin air and crashed into his skull. 

Instinctively, Dick vaulted away, and the last of the smoke was dispelled by a burst of golden light. 

The surprised face of Klarion the Witch Boy disintegrated, and the crowbar fell to the ground. 

Dick turned to look at Doctor Fate, and dazed from the blow, let his shock show. 

“How...”

Giovanni Zatara smiled at him, holding the Helmet of Fate cradled under one arm. 

He held out a business card to Dick, who accepted it. 

“Save my daughter, Richard.”

Then Dick saw the light go out behind his eyes, but the Batman-drilled reflexes allowed him to dart forward and catch Zatara before he hit the ground. 

Dick flipped the card over in his hand. “Shadowcrest Mansion.”

The Helmet of Fate lay dull and quiet on the Gotham alleyway. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been a while, but I've been dealing with quite a bit of writer's block, but now I'm back! Hopefully you guys will like this chapter as well, I think it's not too bad, has some action stuff in it. Still not sure how long this fic will be, probably at least 5 chapters. I'll see you all next time, hopefully soon!
> 
> Admiral out!


End file.
